Bug
by jane0904
Summary: There's a virus loose on board Serenity, and one by one the crew come down with it. Next in the Mal/Freya 'verse.
1. Freya

"Don't you dare come near me!" Freya called, stopping Mal in his tracks on the middle rung of the ladder.

"Why? What've I done?"

"Not sure yet," Freya said, then threw up loudly into the bucket she was holding on her lap. "_Gao yang jong duh goo yang_," she added, grabbing a tissue and wiping at her mouth.

"Honey?" Mal moved down another rung. "You okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she asked, sitting up in the bunk, one of Mal's flannel shirts done up to her neck. He couldn't see what she was wearing on the bottom half as the blanket was tucked securely around her waist. More than one blanket, in fact.

"Is this a trick question?" he asked, stepping down onto the floor and moving towards her.

"I've got some kind of stomach flu!" she said loudly.

He stopped. "I'm away for three days and you get sick?"

"I told you, it's a bug." She sniffed. "Ask Simon. He told me. Said my temperature was up. Seemed pretty impressed it was so high without me actually being unconscious." She covered her mouth again. "Gorramit," she muttered, pulling the bucket back towards her, but this time she was able to fight it back.

"And you think I gave it to you?" Mal asked.

"Did I say that? Sorry, but did I actually say that?" Freya rubbed a hand across her red eyes. "Only I'm beginning to think I might be hallucinating."

"No, not quite. But you told me not to come near you," Mal explained.

"Oh. No, right. I meant so you don't catch it." She lay back, closing her eyes. "It's _gos se_, believe me. I ache everywhere, too." She shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, then sat up. "And I can't sleep, 'cos I wake up feeling like I'm drowning."

Mal winced slightly. "Thanks for that," he said. "Little bit too much information."

"Hey, you're supposed to be there for me!" she said, wiping her forehead. "I know I look like something Kaylee scrapes out of the coil, but it ain't permanent."

"You told me to go away."

"I didn't mean it." She sighed, only this time it was misery. "Oh, Mal, I feel like I'm dying."

He hid a grin and took the last couple of steps across the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bunk. "You sure it isn't something you've eaten?"

"We've all been eating the same thing, and no-one else is sick." She pushed the bucket away. "'Sides, you shouldn't have to see me like this."

"What, all yellow and disgusting?" he asked, moving her hair out of her eyes.

"Yellow?" she asked with a yelp.

"A little. Quite a pretty shade," he assured her. "Kinda goes with the bloodshot eyes."

"Oh, great," she said, leaning forward so her forehead rested on his thigh. "Just shoot me now."

"Ain't gonna shoot you," Mal said gently, stroking her back.

"No, please."

"So where does Simon think you picked it up?" Mal asked. "This bug."

She sat up and sighed. "Boros. He thinks it's something doing the rounds there. I just don't want anyone else to get it." She gave him a push on his chest. "Including you."

"Hey, I got the constitution of a horse. Always have had." He smiled at her. "Ain't gonna get rid of me that easy."

"I don't want to get rid of you. Just don't want you sick."

"How long you gonna be like this, did the doc say?"

Freya shrugged miserably. "At least a couple more days." She looked into his face. "I can't take it, Mal. I ain't been able to keep anything remotely food-like down for two days, and even the thought …" Her face took on a strained look and Mal grabbed the bucket, holding it for her as she threw up. Again. Finally it was just dry heaves and she lay back, her face damp with sweat. He picked up a towel from the chair and wiped her forehead. "You know, if you were a gentleman, you'd do like I asked and shoot me."

"Good job I ain't a gentleman, then," Mal said, drying her cheeks.

---

"It's just a stomach bug," Simon said, trying to sound reassuring. "I checked the Cortex last night – it's become something of a epidemic down there. I'm just surprised more of the crew haven't come down with it."

"More?" Mal asked, his eyebrows raising. "I thought it was just Freya."

"No. River began throwing up at breakfast. Projectile vomiting, no less. I don't think Jayne was any too pleased."

"Why?"

"He was sitting opposite her at the time."

Mal tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. "Seems to me your sister has a propensity for ruining Jayne's shirts."

Simon's lips twitched. "Seems so."

"So, you think there's gonna be more?"

"Well, I don't think Jayne's feeling too good at the moment, but that might just be the fallout from earlier, and I haven't seen Hank in a while … but I can't really say. I've restricted Freya and River to their quarters, but if it's on board …"

"I take Zoe on a job and this is what I come back to." Mal shook his head. "It's gonna smell, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid it might. But look on the bright side, Mal. You can prove how much you love Freya by holding the bucket for her."

"Already did that," Mal murmured. "And there's nothing you can do to help?" he crossed his arms, the blue light in the infirmary reflecting off his eyes.

"I've tried, but all the anti-emetics don't seem to have much effect." Mal just stared at him. "To stop her throwing up," Simon clarified.

"I do understand, doctor," Mal said. "But there must be something else. In this day and age –"

"It's a virus," Simon interrupted. "They mutate – change – sometimes as we look at them. What works on one variant might not work on another. It's usually better just to let it take its course."

"And you told Freya that."

"I made sure her gun was a distance away first, but yes. I think she hates me."

"Doc, you don't know the half of it." Mal shook his head. "So what do we do?"

"Nothing we can do. Keep her hydrated as much as possible, warm, and no sex."

"Wha … what?"

For once Simon had rendered Mal speechless, and it was a pleasant feeling. "Or if you do you have to use some other form of contraception. This sort of virus renders oral or hypodermic inoculation unreliable. So for the next three weeks, until it re-establishes itself, I would suggest condoms –"

Mal held up a hand. "Doc, you can stop right there. Ain't no way Frey is going to let me get within ten feet of her at the moment, so I don't think you need to worry about that."

---

"Doc?" Jayne said, standing in the doorway to the infirmary, one arm across his stomach.

Simon turned. "Ah." He indicated the medbed. "Better hop up."

"I don't hop, doc," Jayne said but climbed slowly onto the table and Simon fixed the sensor to his finger.

"Oh, yes, you have a temperature," the young doctor confirmed.

"It's all the fault of that sister of yourn," Jayne complained. "If'n she hadn't spewed her guts all over me -"

"Actually, it isn't. Going by the progress of this, it's probably Freya's fault, if anyone is to blame." Simon prepared a hypo.

"Yeah, but your sister ain't likely to shoot me if I suggest that," Jayne said, then stopped. "No, I take that back."

Simon injected him with the colourless liquid. "This might help with the nausea, but I doubt it. As I told Freya, this just has to run its course."

"So I'm gonna spend the next few days with my head down the john?" Jayne asked.

"Just think of it as an extended hangover," Simon advised.

"Yeah, but I didn't have the pleasure of drinking." He looked down at the sensor on his finger. "You gonna take that off?"

"Well, that depends." Simon was looking at him in a calculating fashion, and Jayne started to feel uncomfortable.

"You ain't gonna kiss me, are you?" he asked, leaning back a little.

"Not if your life depended on it," Simon said deadpan. "No, I just thought we might like to take this moment to have a little chat."

"A chat?" Jayne stared at him. "What about?"

"River."

"What about her?"

"You've been spending a lot of time in each other's company." Simon continued his cool gaze.

"So?" The uncomfortableness was back.

"So I want to know your intentions."

Jayne burst out laughing. "My intentions? You make it sound like I want to marry that moonbrain!"

"There's nothing wrong with my sister that a good twenty-five years of psychoanalysis and medication can't cure," Simon said.

"You want me to marry her?" Jayne's brow creased.

"Not if hell froze over."

"Then what's -"

"I just want to know what's going on."

Jayne stared at him for a moment, then his face took on a sort of odd, softer look. "Hell, doc. Truth is, I like her." At Simon's appalled expression he went on quickly, "Not like that. Don't want to take her into my bed or nothing. Just … I kinda respect her. What she did on that moon, gutting all them Reavers - saved our skins."

Simon shuddered a little. "That she did."

"Well, I guess I kinda took a different look at her. She's still crazy, but … anyone who can do all that and be the one still standin' at the end, ain't all bad in my book. So we've become …" He searched for the right word.

"Friends?" Simon supplied eventually.

"Nope," Jayne said, shaking his head firmly. "Not friends. But we ain't enemies no more. 'N' it's good to have someone to talk to again, even if some of the things she says don't exactly make a heap of sense." He grinned. "Hell, I've even forgiven her for taking a kitchen knife to me."

"I'm sure she's immensely happy to hear that," Simon said dryly.

Jayne, expecting sarcasm, didn't rise to the bait. "I know she ain't my kin, doctor. But she kinda feels like it."

Simon was shocked. Jayne wanting to have sex with his sister was one thing, but this was entirely unexpected. "I … I see."

"Just don't tell her that," Jayne added quickly. "She'd probably laugh herself silly at it."

"No, I don't think she would," Simon said softly.

Jayne looked at him sharply then groaned. "Oh, _tzao gao_," he moaned, holding his belly. "That stuff ain't working."

"Best you get back to your bunk, Jayne. I'll stop in on you later." He pulled the sensor off the big man's finger.

Jayne nodded and got up. He walked unsteadily towards the door but stopped. "This is just between you 'n' me, right?" he asked, not looking around.

"Doctor/patient confidentiality, Jayne," Simon assured him.

"Good." Jayne moaned again and hurried back towards his bunk.

Besides, Simon thought, who would believe it?

"Simon?" It was Kaylee's voice over the com.

He crossed the room and pressed the response button. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Does morning sickness usually last into the afternoon?" There was a gasp and the sound of something splattering onto deck plating.

"I'm coming, Kaylee. Just hold on."

"I'm holding, Simon," her voice said tearfully.

Simon let go of the button and sighed, and went to pick up half a dozen kidney bowls and some swabs. It looked like he was going to be pretty busy for a while.


	2. Jayne

Jayne was singing. He was standing outside the infirmary, in the common area, his arms up, throwing caution to the winds and singing at the top of his voice.

"What the hell is that?" Mal asked, stepping into the corridor from his bunk.

Zoe looked at him from the bridge. "Have we been invaded, sir?"

"If we have I'm not sure I want to find out by what."

"It's Jayne," came Freya's voice from below. "Remember? When he was carol singing with River?"

"She's right, sir," Zoe said. "I believe it is him."

"I thought he was sick."

"Hallucinating," Freya said.

Mal went back down the ladder enough so that he could see her. She was sitting up in bed, looking better than she had done, but still pale. "Hallucinating?" he asked.

"I told you, Simon was surprised I wasn't because of my high temperature."

"You told me he was surprised that you weren't unconscious."

"Oh. Did I? Well, he said I might hallucinate too. So I wouldn't be surprised if Jayne isn't." She lay back, the effort of being helpful making her feel exhausted.

"What do you suppose he's hallucinating about?" Mal asked.

"Mal, darling, I've done my bit. You go and see to him." She smiled and covered her head with the pillow.

Mal climbed back to join Zoe. "Come on. I think we'd better find out what's going on."

"You think it'll take both of us, sir?" Zoe asked.

"I have the feeling it might take a whole battalion, but as we're it …"

"Yes sir."

---

Jayne was still singing, alternating between some raucous ditty that he'd picked up in a bar somewhere, and a song about a moon and a river.

Which would have been bad enough at the best of times, but it was made worse by the fact that the big man was naked. Nude. Totally au naturel. Except for the gun strapped to his thigh.

"Now that is downright unsettling," Mal murmured.

"What's that song he's singing?" Zoe asked.

"Don't recognise it myself, but that ain't unsurprising. What Jayne can do to a simple tune …" He shook his head. "What the hell do we do now?"

Zoe was watching Jayne, her eyes seeming to be totally unconcerned, but looking the mercenary up and down. "He's a big man," she added quietly.

"Ain't that big," Mal responded.

"I meant tall, sir."

"I know what you meant."

"Care to allow me to compare, sir?" Zoe asked.

He shot her a look but she only smiled. "Just help me get him back into his bunk."

"And how do you propose we do that, sir?" She nodded towards the stairs. "Carry him?"

"Ah." Mal stopped. "I can see you're thinking there's a flaw in my plan." He looked past the singing mercenary and towards the guest quarters. "Perhaps I should take some expert advice."

---

"Freya's right," Simon said, leaning on the door, looking pale and sick himself. He'd finally come down with it too and was not feeling in a generous mood. "He is hallucinating. It's the fever. Takes some folks that way. I'm just surprised it's Jayne."

"'Moon River, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style …'" Jayne sang, his great hands clasped in front of his hairy chest.

"He keeps singing that," Mal said. "Is it significant?"

"Probably. I had a word with him before I … about River. About the amount of time he's spending with her."

Mal was surprised. "I thought they hated each other."

"Not any more."

Mal's face registered a faint disgust. "You saying he's sweet on -"

"NO!" Simon said loudly, then go himself back under control. "No. But he's just … I think he's serenading her."

Jayne changed songs again in mid-stream, now something about a moondance.

"He's sure got moons on the brain," Mal said.

"He'll have something more if he doesn't give it a rest. Captain, if you don't shut him up I will shoot him," Simon promised.

"Oh, I think it's sweet," Kaylee said from the depths of the bed.

"You're delirious, sweetheart," Simon assured her, then turned back to Mal. "I swear it."

"Doc, if I don't get him to be quiet soon you won't have to." He glanced over his shoulder. "Can I knock him out?"

"Good idea."

"What should I use?"

"A piece of steel tubing springs to mind."

"I meant medication-wise."

Simon closed his eyes for a moment, and Mal wondered whether he should step out of the way, but the doctor was only thinking. He looked at Mal again and said, "Hydraxine. 15cc. That should be enough to knock him out but not actually do any damage."

"Fifteen? Ain't that too much?"

Jayne's voice suddenly changed pitch as he sang the girl's part.

"Believe me, Mal, if I wanted to I could get you to kill him and you'd never know." His face turned pale. "Now excuse me but I have to …" He slammed the door closed and Mal could hear the sounds of someone being violently sick.

"Oh, honey," Kaylee's voice said sympathetically. "All over your best pants too."

---

"I think we're just gonna have to grab him, sir," Zoe said, leaning on the railing.

"If'n you think I'm gonna get that close to a naked mercenary, Zoe, you can think again."

"So you intend to leave him wandering around Serenity with no clothes on, sir?"

"No. No, just trying to think up a plan."

"Well think faster, sir. Before he decides to take matters into his own hands."

"Matters?"

"I have to agree with Simon, sir. This is something to do with River."

"But I really thought they hated each other."

"Sir, I think you need to take a bit more notice of what's going on once in a while."

"Like you and Hank?"

Zoe stared at him. "There is nothing between me and Hank."

"That's not what he says."

"I will be having words with that pilot," Zoe promised, and the look on her face made Mal wince.

"Fine. Just so long as you remember he needs both hands to fly the boat."

"That wasn't where I was considering hurting him, sir."

Mal looked at her then shook his head. "Grab that blanket, Zoe."

"Sir?"

"I've an idea how to get our mercenary back to his bunk."

---

Jayne had segued into another song, this time one about moonlight and roses.

"Moons again, sir."

"Hmmn." Mal peered around the door. "Can you get to the infirmary without him seeing you?"

"I think so, sir." Zoe looked around the corner. "What do you want me to get?"

"Hydraxine. 15cc."

"Isn't that rather a lot?"

Mal paused. "You know, I asked exactly the same -" Jayne's voice went up another level, and he winced as his eardrums protested. "Just get it."

"Yes sir."

Zoe slid down the steps, keeping close into the wall. Jayne had his back to her, and she took a moment to admire his rather shapely legs before slipping into the infirmary.

A minute later and she was back at the door, nodding at the captain.

Mal took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth, then opened the blanket. Only mouthing the words, he looked at Zoe and said, "One, two … three!" He rushed forwards, enveloping the singing mercenary in the blanket.

Jayne thrashed about, still singing, but attempting to use his not inconsiderable strength to break free and draw his gun.

"Use it!" Mal said, struggling to keep Jayne wrapped in the blanket.

"But sir -"

"Just use it!"

Zoe shrugged and injected the mercenary with the sedative in the side of his neck.

For a moment nothing happened, then Jayne's features softened, his voice faded away, and he collapsed all at once, going down like a tree cut from the base.

"Wouldn't it have been better to give him the sedative _after_ we got him back to his bunk, sir?"

Mal, laying under the naked mercenary's bare arm, nodded. "I think you may have a point."

"Thanks for saying, sir."

Mal tried to push Jayne over, but his dead weight was too much. "Um, Zo? Could you give me a hand?"

Zoe looked down at him, her hands on her hips. "Sir?"

"Zoe …"

She sighed but leaned over and pulled Mal clear. He stood up, looking down at the unconscious man.

"And now what do we do, sir?" Zoe asked.

Mal had his head on one side. "Looks kinda peaceful, don't he?"

"So we leave him here?"

"I don't see how we're gonna get him up four flights of stairs and through the dining area. Do you?"

"No, sir."

"We'll make him comfortable, but I think that's it."

They used the cushions from the common area and padded around him, lifting his head to slide one underneath. He smiled in his sleep and grabbed hold of it, pulling it into him and saying, "Vera."

"Do you suppose he means his gun?" Mal asked.

"I hope so, sir," Zoe said, heading up towards the second level.

"Thank you!" Simon's voice called from his room.

---

In the corridor Zoe pushed the hatch open above Hank's bunk.

"Zoe?" Mal asked.

"Just making sure he's okay," she said, stepping onto the ladder.

"Don't kill him," Mal advised. "I'd hate to be having to find a new pilot right this minute."

"Oh, I won't kill him," she promised, and climbed down the ladder.

He was lying in bed, wrapped to the neck in blankets, and at the sight of her his face broke into a big but unsteady smile. "Ah," he cried. "My beautiful angel of mercy!"

She looked at him, her face impassive, then slowly she reached across to activate the close switch.

"Zoe?" came Hank's voice, something like fear just washing through it as the door swung too, cutting off all sound.

Mal shook his head, and for once felt sorry for his pilot. Then he laughed and went back to his own bunk.

"All quiet?" Freya asked, watching him step down.

"All quiet. Jayne's sleeping it off, Simon's destroyed another pair of his pants, and Hank is being severely reprimanded. But apart from that, everything's fine." He sat down on the bed next to her.

"Sorry?" Freya asked, her face screwing up in puzzlement.

"Never mind. I'll explain in the morning." He yawned hugely and scratched his chest.

She scooted over in bed. "Come on, lie down."

"I'm still dressed," he pointed out.

"I wasn't intending to have my wicked way with you," Freya said. "I don't think I could, even if I tried. I just want you to lie down. You need to rest." She looked into his eyes. "You know, you don't look too good."

"I'm fine," Mal protested, doing what she said and lying down next to her. "I'm just tired is all."

"As long as it's just that. I told you I didn't want you catching it too." She lay back down and put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

"I'm shiny," he promised, reaching down to plant a kiss on her hair. She snuggled closer.

He smiled, putting his arm around her, then with the other hand pulled the bucket just a little closer to the bed.


	3. Badger

"Zoe?"

"Go away, Freya." She rolled over and pulled the covers up higher over her head.

Freya dropped down the ladder and stood at the end of the bed. "Ah. I figured you might have come down with it at last. Sorry."

"If I were strong enough I'd explain to you just how sorry you should be."

"I hadn't intended to make everyone sick! I thought my cooking did that well enough." Freya smiled but Zoe just groaned.

"You mention food and I will decorate your boots."

"Ain't wearing any," Freya said, looking down at her bare feet. "Can't quite seem to be able to get them on at the moment. Simon says it'll wear off, but for now I am shoeless."

"Can't you just be Freya-less and go away?" Zoe asked from the depths of the fug she had created.

"I brought you a clean bucket."

"Fine. Take the full one and go."

"I'm feeling better, thank you for asking, though Mal's sick now too."

"Good."

"He's acting like he's dying, saying he was wrong in not agreeing to shoot me. Says he wants me to be better'n him and shoot him instead."

"Go ahead. As long as you do it quiet like."

Freya grinned. "Could smother him, of course. Pretty much like you're doing. Are you gonna come out?"

"No. I intend staying right here."

"How long for?"

"What year is it?"

Freya laughed. "Okay, I'll leave you in peace. Just call if you need anything." She picked up the used bucket with some distaste and carried it carefully back up the ladder.

"She okay?" Hank asked in the corridor, his face still pale but his demeanour nonchalantly sympathetic.

"Why, were you planning on being a ministering angel?"

"Thought I might pay her back. Do you know what she did to me?" He looked disgusted. "A bed bath. She insisted on giving me a bed bath."

"And that's so bad … how? Zoe, in your bunk, you naked … I mean, you had to have been naked for that, right?"

"No. She said she was going to do it the traditional way. Freya, have you ever had an ice-cold soaking sponge thrust down the front of your pyjama pants?"

"Not … that I can recall."

Hank shuddered. "Don't. It ain't nice. And she wouldn't let me change afterwards. I'm surprised I didn't catch pneumonia."

"That may have been her plan," Freya pointed out.

"What did I do to her?" he asked, his eyes wide in honest astonishment.

"You've been telling everyone that you and her are an item," Freya pointed out.

Hank looked abashed. "Well, maybe a little. It just …I kinda figured that if I said it enough she'd come to believe it."

"She didn't. In fact, I'm surprised that was all she did."

"It wasn't." His whole body quivered this time. "Do not ask how she took my temperature."

This time Freya laughed out loud. "Sorry, Hank, but I think you deserved it."

"You ain't no friend of mine," he said, turning on his heel and heading back for the bridge. "Inara'll be checking in soon – I'd better tell her not to come back yet. Simon said we're probably all still infectious, even if we feel better."

"Good idea."

"You know, I really didn't think Zoe'd come down with it," Hank added over his shoulder as he climbed the steps. "I didn't think the germs would dare."

Freya was still chuckling as she walked down the stairs, but her good humour deserted her as she came in sight of the cargo bay. "_Tzao gao_," she murmured to herself, putting the bucket down on the floor.

Badger was standing by the open bay doors, his goons behind him. The greasy little tick was examining the contents of one of the crates.

"That ain't yours," Freya called, hurrying down the stairs.

Badger looked up at her, dropping the geisha doll back down. "Pretty thing."

"I'm presuming you meant the doll," Freya said. "Or are you giving me an unexpected compliment?"

"The doll. Always did like 'em." He stepped forward. "Been waitin' for your captain to deliver my goods," he said. "Much as I love doing business with him, he ain't usually tardy."

Freya crossed the bay floor to face him. "He's not feeling well."

"Really? Nothing minor I hope."

"Food poisoning," Freya lied. "We picked up some bad meat on Boros, and it's hit some of the crew pretty hard. You know, vomiting, stomach cramps, that kind of thing …"

Badger sniffed the air. "Yeah, it do smell worse than usual in here." He looked at her. "You seem to be okay."

"I'm vegetarian."

Badger looked at her from under the rim of his bowler, deciding whether to believe her or not. Then he shrugged. It didn't matter one way or another. "So where's my goods?"

Freya pointed to a small stack of boxes by the door. "There they are. All present and correct, and in tip top condition." She smiled coldly. "Where's our money?"

Badger pulled a small bag from his pocket. "Here. And don't insult me by countin' it."

"I know you wouldn't gyp us, Badger. Mal's too efficient for you to do that." The smile hadn't warmed up.

"So how sick is he?" Badger asked hopefully. "He likely to snuff it?"

"No."

"Pity." The little man turned to his goons and nodded at the boxes. One of them, a big man with tattoos down one arm, picked up the stack easily and carried them out.

"You sure he can manage all by himself?" Freya asked.

"He can manage." He turned to leave.

"That's it? No polite conversation? No fascinating little wordplay? No threatening us with the Alliance?" Freya asked.

"You ain't that funny," Badger said over his shoulder. He walked towards the ramp.

Freya looked down and smiled. "Badger, wait."

The little man turned, his men moving closer to him in case she tried anything nasty. "What is it?" he asked warily.

Freya held out something. "Here."

It was one of the geisha dolls.

"You're givin' me a gift?" Badger asked suspiciously, not taking it.

"You said you liked them. Here." She waved it at him.

"I don't know …"

"It isn't booby-trapped," she said, then shrugged. "Okay, if you don't want it –"

"No, I'll 'ave it!" he said, grabbing it from her. "'Ad one of these once when I was a kid. Sat on the windersill at home, 'til my dad got drunk one night and pulled off 'er 'ead."

"That explains a lot," Freya murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Take it and keep it close to you always."

He looked at her askance, then nodded. "Thanks. You know, you ain't as bad as the rest of 'em. Mind you, that ain't saying much."

"Badger, you'd better go before you turn my head with all this fulsome praise."

The little man stared at her, then straightened his jacket. "Might 'ave another job for you if you're around in a coupla days."

"I expect we'll be here."

"Shiny." He turned and walked away, his geisha doll in his hand.

"You are wicked," Hank called from the catwalk.

"What? What did I do?" she asked, turning to look at him, her eyebrows raised in innocent query.

---

A few days later Badger was lying in his bed, a girl either side of him. They were asleep, and he smiled to himself. It was good to be alive right now. He'd got his goods, and put another job the way of that Reynolds and his crew, and he should make a tidy profit out of it all. They'd come through, he knew that, much as he'd have liked them to end up a smear on some border moon. Still, beggars can't be choosers. He nearly laughed out loud. Not that he was a beggar. And maybe that Freya liked him. He could get used to her being around the place. She'd put lead in a man's pencil. He glanced over at the geisha doll, whose head was wobbling slightly in the breeze. Gave him a present, and all. Might have to see … he stopped as a wave of nausea swept over him.


End file.
